Vampire Ken
by Ellen Smithee
Summary: Damon doesn't know what he should do with his new progeny. Damon/Matt


It seems like a good idea at the time, _brilliant_ even. Caroline is sobbing and drinking _his_ alcohol again, telling him of the latest romantic drama in what is apparently the horrible tragedy that is her life. Damon can't figure out if they're coming or going, on again or off again, and he's had enough this time. Vampire Barbie shall get her insipidly boring vampire Ken, he decides, and he mentally pats himself on the back. He should've thought of this sooner, at least before she'd gotten tears all over his favorite black shirt. 

~o~O~o~ 

It's surprisingly easy to turn him. After his initial suspicion, he accepts Damon's friendly overtures-a little too eager, a little too needy, but Damon is flattered. Luckily for Damon, the kid doesn't have vervain on him and Damon compels him easily. In the back room of the Grill, Damon takes his time, drinking languidly with his knee shoved between strong thighs, rubbing against a bulge that is surprisingly large for a Ken as he feeds the kid blood, and then draining him before either of them come. Damon feels vaguely unsatisfied, but congratulates himself on keeping his hands off Caroline's plaything, as pretty as he is. 

Damon lays him like a doll between the pillows on Caroline's bed and then hides outside her window until she comes home, snorting in dark amusement at her outraged shriek when she finds the kid. He leaves the explanations to her. 

~o~O~o~ 

Stefan's forehead is furrowed to the point of a unibrow, and Elena is mirroring his expression almost exactly, only cuter, and Damon is struck by that old adage about couples starting to look like each other. He braces himself for the tirade to come with a supercilious, but strained smile. 

The scolding is annoying, but surprisingly short. Stefan manages to convince himself that it's Damon's misguided way of stepping up to his responsibility to Caroline at last, and, while Elena would never admit it, Damon can tell she thinks it's an oddly sweet, even romantic gesture. Apparently he's won this round. 

~o~O~o~ 

Much to Damon's horror, the kid doesn't even consider drinking human blood, not even from blood bags. Instead, he makes Stefan take him hunting in the woods. The first time he returns triumphant, telling his sire of his achievement with quiet pride, Damon ruins it by asking what it felt like to kill Bambi's mother. Not even Stefan's reproachful look can ruin his perverse joy in the kid's downcast eyes and quivering lip before he storms off. 

~o~O~o~ 

After all her qualms and past drama about Caroline turning, Bonnie doesn't hesitate to make _him_ a ring. Caroline is insulted and jealous, which drives her to drink even more of Damon's alcohol as she sobs on his shoulder, ruining his second favorite black shirt while she prattles on about betrayal and unbreachable chasms. He rolls his eyes until he's staring up at the ceiling, wondering idly if all this listening to Caroline will eventually make them get stuck that way. 

Fan-fucking-tastic. This is why he never does anyone a favor. 

~o~O~o~ 

Alaric isn't laughing, he isn't even smiling, but Damon can tell he thinks it's _hilarious_. 

"So basically one Stefan wasn't enough for you?" Alaric's lips twitch, and a smirk starts to creep over his face as he raises the glass of scotch to his lips. 

"Shut up, Rick." 

Damon sighs as he scowls at the fire. Alaric's shoulders are shaking now and Damon fantasizes about killing him for a moment, just for fun, just to see that surprised look on Alaric's face again. Instead, he takes another sip of his drink and exhales slowly through his nose. The moment passes, and Alaric is safe. For now. 

~o~O~o~ 

Caroline, the ingrate, decides she wants the fucking werewolf instead. Damon tries to argue, tries to cajole, tries to _guilt_ but Caroline starts babbling about true love and destiny or some such shit and Damon stops listening. Well, isn't this just dandy? Now Damon's stuck with him, at least until he finds an opportunity to stake the idiot. 

~o~O~o~ 

When Damon enters his bedroom, he's there, lying on Damon's bed like he owns the place. The look he's giving Damon is both nervous, but determined, and Damon starts to get a bad feeling. 

"What do you want, Mike?" Damon's tone is slightly menacing. 

"Matt." His voice is patient, without a hint that they've had some variant of this exchange almost daily since Damon turned him. 

"Whatever." Damon's eyes narrow. "What are you doing here?" 

"Well." Mike, Matt, whatever, licks his lips as his gaze drops to Damon's crotch. Uncertainty is there again, the briefest of flickers in his eyes before he schools his expression, and Damon feels something like pride, if only for a split second. "You never ended what you started." 

A crushing retort is on the tip of Damon's tongue, but suddenly he's just _tired_. 

Besides, he can always stake the kid in the morning.


End file.
